Land of Entrapment (25 page)

Chapter Fourteen

I WOKE UP with thoughts of Sage and memories of how she felt against me. I had no uncertainty about how she felt about me. But where the hell would I go with this? I lived in freakin’ Texas. She based in New Mexico. Did I really want a relationship? I liked being single. But I also enjoyed relationships and with someone like Sage, I’d probably learn a hell of a lot.

I started some coffee in the kitchen. Besides, what’s the worst that’d happen? It might not work out and then we’d break up and I’d go through an emotional rollercoaster that sent me right through purgatory, hell, and the arctic reaches of my heart. Well, so what? I’d been there already and here I was, still living. Still making coffee. Still enjoying myself. I stared at the coffeemaker as it gurgled and spewed.

The room filled with the smell of a really good blend.

I got a cup down from the cabinet and poured and heard the back door of the main house open. Like an over-eager puppy, I went to the front door, hoping for a glimpse of Sage.

I got better than that. She was on her way down the steps carrying a plate of something. I unlocked the security door and opened it. “Good morning, stranger,” I teased.

She grinned back. She was so damn cute. Baggy khaki shorts, sleeveless green tee, and Birkenstocks.

Her hair was down. “Cinnamon rolls?”

“That guarantees you entrance here much faster than ‘open sesame.’ ” I stepped aside. She paused in the doorway and brushed a kiss across my right cheek, surprising me and causing my nerve endings to scream again. “You want some coffee?” I asked, trying to fill the space between my reactions.

She went directly to the kitchen. “Love some.” She set the rolls on the counter and went right to the cabinet where Megan kept her plates. She got two down, placed them on the counter, and opened the cabinet with the cups, picking one. She placed a roll on each plate and set them on the bistro table before she filled her cup.

“Stuff’s in the fridge if you want to doctor it,” I said as I took a seat at the table. I wanted to run my fingers through her tousled hair. She retrieved the half-and-half and splashed a bit into her cup. She replaced it, shut the fridge, and joined me at the table.

I took a bite of the roll, which was still warm. “Oh, my God. Did you just make these?”

“Well, duh.”

“So you use food to get to me.” I took another bite.

“Dammit, it’s working.”

She laughed and took a sip of her coffee. I watched her gaze fall to my chest, linger, then return to mine. I coughed.

“I’m jealous,” she said, a lascivious glint in her eyes.

“Of what?”

“Your shirt.”

I almost spit out my roll. She took a bite and chewed, angelic. “So what’s on the agenda today?”

Besides lusting after you? Focus, dammit. “I guess I’m going to try to reach Cody and around five, and Chris is swinging by with some information. She’s probably traced the number of the pay phone Megan was using when she last called and I may go to Edgewood to see where that is.”

“Will she go with you?”

“I don’t know. She might have stuff to do.”

“If she doesn’t go, I will.” Sage’s tone was nonnegotiable.

I decided not to argue and hoped fervently that Chris could go. Sage was watching me.

“You’re worried about me,” she said quietly.

“That’s sweet.” She reached over and squeezed my hand before she stood up. She brought the rolls to the table and put another one on my plate. I shook my head, bewildered. She bit into another roll.

“Sage,” I started.

“Mmm hmm?” She was chewing.

“Shit, never mind.” I took a drink from my cup.

“What?” She was waiting.

“This is...” I hesitated. What was it? “Crazy but really cool.” I sighed. “And I am so fucking articulate.

Thanks for everything.”

A strangely tender expression crossed her face.

“The definition of crazy is that you keep doing the same thing over and over expecting the results to be different. In which case, I’m one of the sane things in your life.” She popped the rest of the cinnamon roll into her mouth and washed it down with coffee. “I have to run errands and work in the lab today. As much as I’d like to spend it looking at you, I can’t.”

She smiled and stood, picking up the now-empty plate she had brought from the house. “I’ll see you later. Be careful, okay?”

I stood as well and followed her to the door. She turned and watched me. I wanted to kiss her.

Desperately. I absolutely ached to kiss her. “All in good time,” she said softly. “Have a good day.”

I watched her as she crossed to the big house, climbed the steps, and opened the back door. She turned. “Keep the key. I’d like you to make yourself at home whenever you want.” And with that, she went inside.

This is bad. No, it’s good. Bad? Good? I ran a hand through my hair, still watching the big house. I needed to get my shit together. But somewhere deep, deep within, I knew I needed to follow Sage down that path I had seen in her eyes the night before. The thought wasn’t ready to surface completely just yet. I pulled the door shut and locked it so I could take a shower. Cold.

THE VERIZON GUY at the counter patiently walked me through the activation process of my new

“pay-as-you-go” cell phone, basically what people call a “disposable” cell phone. He then showed me how to set up my voice-mail box. I decided that Cody wasn’t going to answer any calls right off. He was too careful. But I bet he checked his messages.

After I activated the thing, I pre-paid fifty minutes and saved the receipts for everything for Melissa’s reimbursement. I stood outside next to my car, watching traffic on San Mateo, a north-south route that practically ran the length of the city, and Montgomery.

I dialed Cody’s number and waited for his voice-mail. It beeped. I left a message, using a thick Texas accent. “Hi. My name’s Sandy and I’m from Dallas. I just moved here to beanerville and I’m looking for NA, NSM, or anyone who can help me out along those lines. I talked to a guy at Eight Ball who said you’re a good person to call. He had your card. Please call me back. Five-oh-five, four-four-two, nine-six-three-eight. SWP, brother.” I hung up then. What I had indicated to Cody, besides my anti-Hispanic sentiment, was that I was looking for a National Alliance chapter or National Socialist Movement members. “SWP” was the acronym for “Supreme White Power.” I didn’t want him to think I was just parroting the sign-off on his voice-mail. Cody was probably suspicious about law enforcement trying to infiltrate the movement. I watched the traffic for a few more minutes. The only thing to do now was wait.

Or not. Maybe I’d pay another visit to Eight Ball. I headed south on San Mateo to Central and turned left.

I pulled into the parking lot around eleven-thirty and like the last time, I parked far enough away from the shop that unless you were specifically looking for my car, you wouldn’t notice it. I walked the hundred feet to the door and entered. The same woman was at the counter. She recognized me.

“Dragon’s in the back.”

“Is he busy?”

“Nope. But he probably will be later. Sundays can get kinda crazy.”

“Thanks.” I passed her and went to Dragon’s studio. “Hey,” I said, poking my head in.

He was sitting in his chair, reading the latest edition of Wired. He looked up. “Oh, hi. Your boys haven’t been in since I saw you last. Sorry.”

“I figured. Can you do temporary tats?”

His brow furrowed.

“I’m working on a different angle here. Could you ink me with something temporary?”

Comprehension dawned in his eyes. “You’re trying to infiltrate?”

“Kinda sorta. If I bring a logo in, can you temp it?”He grinned. “Sure. I’ve had success with Sharpies, actually. That’ll get you through a couple of days before fading too much as long as you don’t rub it in the shower too hard or sweat a lot.”

“Just a couple of simple things. To be convincing.

I’m trying to set up a meeting with Cody in the next couple of days. How are you at last-minute? Think you can squeeze me in?”

“Hell, if I can’t, Eddie will. He’s good with Sharpies, too. Either way, we’ve got you covered.”

“That’d be great. I might show up later today or I might show up tomorrow or Tuesday.”

“No problem.” His eyes glittered behind his glasses. “This is like some undercover shit. Cool.”

I laughed. “Well, hopefully there’ll be a happy ending.”

“No doubt. Take it easy.”

“You, too.” I left, waved at the goth girl as I exited the shop, and got back in my car. I’d go to Megan’s and print out the logos for my temporary tattoos.

Since I was hungry, I headed back toward Nob Hill to pop in at Kelly’s, a local brewpub with college ambiance so I could grab a sandwich. I kept my new phone with me, though Cody didn’t call.

Around two I headed back to Megan’s, watching for any suspicious visitors. I parked around the corner again and hoofed it back to the house. I didn’t see anyone lurking, so I went in and checked Megan’s e-mail and mine again. Nothing of note. I then jetted over to a couple of white power sites and printed out some sample logos. I picked a couple of simple ones, to save time for the artists, and shut down the computer so I could go hang out at the big house, just in case someone wanted to come around. I happened to glance at the answering machine that Megan kept on the living room bookshelf next to her landline phone. The message light was blinking. That was odd.

I was pretty sure it hadn’t blinked the whole time I was here. I grabbed a pen and pad and pressed the playback button. A mechanical voice announced that the message was left that day at twelve thirty-two PM.“K.C.? Are you there?”

Oh, my God. Megan.

“It’s me. I didn’t think you’d be staying with Melissa. I’m scared, K.C. I don’t know how to get in touch with you. I’ll try again later. I have to go.”

The message ended. I saved it and immediately picked the machine up, trying to figure out how to record a new message. I found the appropriate button and pressed it.

“Hey, it’s me. Try me at four-four-two, nine-six-three-eight.” I made sure to speak the numbers slowly and as clearly as possible. If Megan really did try her home phone again, she’d be able to call my temporary local cell. Since she was probably using a pay phone, a local number was a better bet for her than my Texas cell phone number. I decided to stick around Megan’s after all, in case she called again. It was two forty-five and Chris wouldn’t be here for another couple of hours. I perched on the couch, feeling restless but not really able to do anything at the moment. I went to the fridge to get a bottle of iced tea. My new phone rang from the other room. Cody, most likely.

I waited for it to ring again before I answered in my Texas accent. “Hello?”

“Sandy? This is Cody. You called earlier.” He had a nice voice for an asshole. Sort of mellow. Not too deep. Too bad I wanted to rip his heart out and feed it to crocodiles.

“Oh, hey, thanks for calling me back. I was hoping to hook up with someone.”

“Who gave you my card?”

“A guy at Eight Ball. I met somebody at a meeting in Texas who said to go there when I got to Albuquerque.”

“Eight Ball? Who?”

“He didn’t say his name but he noticed one of my tats and we got to talking and he said I might be interested in ADR. He said you’re in charge of that and that you could help me out.”

“I think I might be able to. Can you meet?” He was clearly flattered that someone had said he was in charge.

Oh, this is almost too easy. “Definitely. I don’t know this place very well yet, so I’ll need directions.”

“How about Tuesday at Eight Ball? You’ve already been there. It’ll have to be around four because I have some stuff to take care of.”

I hesitated but only for a second. “That would be great. Um, do you accept females in ADR? It sounds like something I’d be into.”

“All white women who are willing and able to advance the cause are welcome,” he said in a smooth sales-pitch tone.

“Great. There weren’t many in my home groups and I was hoping to find more here.”

“I think you’ll like what you see.”

“Sounds like it. I’m tired of talk. I want action. I don’t want my kids in school with a buncha muds or queers.” I hoped I sounded vehement.

“We’re the group for you,” he said. He sounded pleased. “Courage, sister. Until Tuesday.” He hung up. I flipped the phone shut. Well, I was getting a meeting with him but Eight Ball was a problem. I didn’t want to start shit there with this prick and get the place into trouble or upset the truce between various groups. I’d see what Chris thought about the whole thing. If she couldn’t make it, maybe Mark could. I tried Melissa’s phone but her voice-mail picked up. I left her a brief message outlining some of the latest developments and told her I’d check back later. I hung up and paced around the house, feeling like I was spinning my wheels. I got Megan’s phone book off the shelf and found the number for Eight Ball. I called and asked for Dragon.

“I’m sorry, he’s with a client right now.”

“Would you please have him give me a call? Tell him it’s K.C. He’s got my number. It’s about what we discussed earlier today.” I signed off and stared moodily at the computer screen. Megan’s home phone rang. It didn’t register at first and then I was lunging for it as it dawned on me who it might be.

“Hello?”

“K.C.?” Megan said, tentative.

“You okay?”

“Oh, my God. I’m so glad it’s you. I’m really scared and I don’t know what to do.”

“Can you talk for a few minutes?”

“Yeah. But not too long.”

“Are you at the same phone you were the other night?”

“Yes.”

I thought I heard cars in the background. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“He took my car keys, my house keys, my cell phone. He gives me a few dollars for an allowance.

They’re planning something big. I’m not sure what.

There’re guns here. Lots. I’m scared.” She was almost whispering the last part.

“Are you staying with him somewhere?”

“Yes. A place in Edgewood. There’s always somebody there. Four fifty-seven Partridge. I have to go. If I’m gone too long they send somebody after me.”“Okay, listen. I know where that pay phone is. I’m going to leave a phone number there for you tonight.